Look Alive, Gracie
by xXEchoedScreamsXx
Summary: Its been 6 years since the Killjoys stormed BL/ind and lost their lives, and Grace is still troubled over the loss. Based on Danger Days: True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys. Rated M for attempted suicide, cutting, and the like. You've been warned.


**Hey all! Well this is my first ever fan fiction. So go easy, its my first time. ;3 (Also, if Grace isn't the one called Missile Kid in the Danger-verse, I apologize.)**

**I do not own Grace, Party Poison, or anyone in this story!  
><strong>

**R&R and Enjoy! =) **

The room was deathly quiet. She hadn't spoken a word since the event took place almost 6 years ago. All that could be heard was her breathing and she so desperately wished that even that would cease.

For Missile Kid, life was meaningless without her Killjoys.

The cold metal felt reassuring in her hand. Before this, she had never even considered doing what she was about to do. Not even when her parents died. But losing Party Poison, Kobra Kid, Jet Star, and Fun Ghoul…it was too much.

Dr. Death would have beaten her for it. Not in the literal sense anyway. She had ran away long ago. There was no need to stay with _them_ anymore. It caused too many bad memories to come back. Especially when Dr. D had announced it over the radio.

It was upon running away that she fully adopted the name Missile Kid. Grace was dead now.

She looked down at the glistening object in her hand. She hadn't done it in awhile. She needed the release. She looked at herself in the dirty mirror. How had it come to this? She looked over her overly curly brown hair…her brown doe eyes that used to hold all the happiness of the world, but now were lifeless and had giant dark circles under them. She looked at her stick thin figure. She had developed well over the years. She was 16 now. She was 10 when it happened; when she lost her world. When Korse had killed them all.

She gripped the sharp metal piece in her hand, not caring about the sting it caused. She was numb anyway.

She let the memories come flooding back.

Party had been first.

A gasp sounded as the sharp razor cut into her skin.

Then his brother, Kobra.

Another gasp.

Then dumb-ass Fun Ghoul trying to be the hero.

She gritted her teeth against the relieving pain.

And finally Jet Star.

She cut deeper than she ever had before, not caring what happened to her.

The worst part of it? It was all because of her. She was the reason they stormed BL/ind in the first place.

Another deep cut. She let a single tear fall as she watched her blood drip into the sink and down the drain. She would never cost anyone else their lives again. She promised this.

Black danced around the edge of her vision. She was losing too much blood and she knew it. Yet, she wouldn't do anything to stop it. This is what she wanted. She would finally be reunited with her Killjoys.

She collapsed in the floor and curled up in a ball, except for her bleeding arm.

She didn't even know where she was. All she knew was it was an abandoned motel just outside of Zone 6. In a dirty bathroom of all places.

As her vision faded, she felt the longing pain in her chest dissipate. She was dying, and she welcomed the grim reaper with open arms.

In her mind, a something Dr. Death-Defying had said struck her. "_So remember. Even if you're dusted, you may be gone, but out here in the desert, your shadow lives on without you."_ She remembered hearing him say it once when she listened in on one of his radio broadcasts.

Would her shadow live on? Would it tell her story? How she suffered for 6 years? The trail of burden and sorrow she walked all this time? Would anyone even find her body? She didn't care. All she wanted was that forgiving darkness.

The young girl closed her eyes, wanting to slip into the abyss, but it wouldn't let her yet. She saw Party Poison's face behind her closed lids. His face was disappointed.

She heard his voice for the first time in 6 years.

"_Gracie…, why?"_

She opened her mouth and for once, sound came out. After 6 years of her voice being unused, it was harsh and whispery, but it was clear.

"Y…You're dead…because of me."

"_We died protecting you. There was no better way to go out in my mind."_

"You were fools…you should have left me there." She sobbed brokenly.

"_You're stronger than this, Grace."_

"Not anymore," she whispered."

"_Yes, you are. I believe in you. And this is not the Grace I knew."_

"The Grace you knew is dead. She has been for 6 years."

"_Please, Gracie…" _His voice said gently and sadly,_ "Its not your time yet. Get up. Clean yourself off. Don't be afraid to keep on living…You'll never walk this world alone, motor-baby. I'm always with you…"_ his voice faded and her eyes snapped open.

"Party?" she sat up weakly. "Party! Come back, I need you!" She brought her knees up to her chest and let it all out. She soon fell asleep.

After she woke up, she felt as if a huge weight had been lifted from her heart.

She still felt broken, but now she felt she could heal.

She got up off the cold, dirty floor and dusted herself off. The blood had already dried on her arm and the wounds were scabbing over.

How long had she laid there?

She emerged from the motel long enough to see that it was night time. She stood at the doorway and looked at the razor blade in her hand.

Maybe Party was right. Maybe she is stronger than this…

Without a second thought, she chucked the crimson stained blade far off into the sand.

For the first time in years she felt as if she could make it through another day. She didn't feel like she would fall apart at any second. Maybe being at the brink of death was just what she needed.

Party was right.

She would carry on.


End file.
